


Hydrate to win

by bluebells



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Ajay came to win, Anita hasn't had a drink in months, Daydreaming, F/F, Gibraltar wonders why he was saddled with the useless lesbians, Inappropriate use of health drones, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 11:04:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20759312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebells/pseuds/bluebells
Summary: Bangalore has a weakness for competent teammates, especially ones that tease and shoot as well as her new combat medic.





	Hydrate to win

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a simple human: I see a beautiful medic and I click 'like'. I don't usually like writing with an accent distinctly in the spelling but I'm going to follow the Apex subtitle style and see how it feels this time.

It's day three with this new squad, and Bangalore has reason to hope they'll go some distance.

If she doesn't trip herself up first.

“You got something for this?” She gestures with her free hand to the mess of her hair. Something warm is beading down her hairline -- blood, sweat or more likely both. 

Lifeline glances up from the bandage she’s wrapping around the soldier’s bicep. From the assessing look on her face, maybe it isn’t so clear Bangalore isn’t suggesting she’s cuckoo so much as--

“Headache?” She squints softly, searching her face. Mussed up, brow drying with sweat, streaked with as much filth and grass stains as Bangalore herself, Lifeline looks cute when her wheels are spinning. “Ya ears ring?” 

Bangalore appreciates the sharp ones.

She nods and Lifeline takes her chin, gently tilting it away for an unobstructed view. She enjoys the slight weight when the younger woman leans against her shoulder. Her hum of thought tickles the hairs on Bangalore’s earlobe, and she swallows thickly.

She could wrap an arm around the medic. It’d be easy. There was no hesitation earlier that day when Lifeline shocked her back into consciousness with a needle in her chest, dragged her up to stand, and threw Bangalore’s arm over her shoulders. 

“Ya not done yet!” the medic had barked in her ear while they retreated under the boom of Gibraltar’s cover fire.

Bangalore didn’t hesitate to lean on her then.

Without the excuse of their lives in imminent threat, it’s a struggle to even relax with the smaller woman up in her space. Which is not the problem. She’s precisely where Bangalore wants her to be though maybe under less pretences….

“No blood, no obstruction.” Lifeline moves around her on the low bench to check her other ear, pen light in her hand. “This ringing. Ya hear it before today?”

“Yes,” Bangalore mutters, jaw tightening when the medic's fingers brush from her ear over her tight rows of hair. She suppresses a shiver.

“Intermittent? All the time?”

Bangalore blinks, thinking it over seriously. “Intermittent.”

“That’s good.” Lifeline sounds pleased and straightens up, her touch disappearing. Maybe Bangalore should have lied. “It’ll clear on its own. Tinnitus common for ya soldiers. Ya 've a chance o' losing some hearing 'fore ya done. Wear plugs to dampen the worst in our next romp.”

Romp.

From her slump against the boulder, Bangalore blinks back at her, momentarily forgetting how her mouth works. 

Probably mistaking her silence for a sour dismissal, Lifeline raises an eyebrow, and the way she smiles when she’s about to sass Bangalore is just-- 

“Ya stubborn. So ya won’t. ”

Ugh, that voice. Like smoke and honey. Bangalore doesn’t even like honey, but if Lifeline said it was the only way to live, she would open wide and choke down as much as the medic ordered.

At her back, Gibraltar is laughing at her expense as quietly as he can, which is to say, he gives away their position.

And once more, they're moving.

///

“Come an' get ya birthday present!” Lifeline crows, grin blinding. The peacekeeper tucks against her shoulder and opens fire on the squads fleeing from Gibraltar’s bombardment.

Bangalore and Gibraltar share a look of bemusement.

Why are the medics always the ones with the happiest triggers?

///

“Good hustle today,” she thanks her team, bumping forearms with Gibraltar’s gauntlet and accepting Lifeline’s low five, delighting in the medic’s little smirk. “Same deal, cool steel tomorrow.”

Gibraltar grins, already heading off in search of their dinner. “You practice those lines?”

“Keep talkin'," Lifeline encourages her, eyes glittering, and ignores the significant eyebrow the older man raises at her.

Bangalore clears the hot feeling that tightens her throat and looks for somewhere to store their kit for the night.

"She's got your number," Gibraltar murmurs, passing her shoulder, half-warning, half-jest, but Bangalore clenches her jaw against a retort and snorts a laugh under her breath.

He doesn't know what he's talking about.

Later that evening, Gibraltar retires early in the front room of their shack, their first line of defence even now when the games have suspended for the day. He's a rare specimen with more honour than Bangalore thought she would find this far out here in an arena like this.

The same could be said for both her teammates.

A calm quiet has settled like a thick blanket with the evening's chill. The crickets chirp at her, _Anita, why don't you rest, too?_

Their medic is sitting back atop her DOC health drone servicing the syringe gun.

If Bangalore stares, it’s because she can’t fathom how that drone hovers, supporting the woman’s entire weight and _ not _because her legs are splayed wide over its rim.

However.

A vision passes over Bangalore’s mind in a haze: gently tilting the medic to drape upside down from that drone, back curved, hips braced, and crooning in anticipation as Bangalore sinks between her thighs.

She imagines the loud clatter as she would let that utility belt drop away, peeling the smaller woman out of those tattered pants, holding her eye as she leans in to take the first breath of her, scent the taste of her, and watch how her lower lips would part under the spread of armoured hands. How would Lifeline's breath hitch when Bangalore finally lost her battle with herself, pressing in to devour her slow and sweet?

Her mouth waters imagining the moment she would finally crush her mouth to that prize, vulnerable, wet and glistening. She would treasure the little tremor in the medic’s belly even as she would spread her with thumbs to reveal the inner lips of her cunt, marking her territory slow, hot and wide with a wet lick from base to clit.

Oh, that clit. Bangalore would settle in for hours. Give it to her quick and sharp, then slower, heavy with the flat of her tongue, circling back quick again. She would learn just how long and hard to suckle before the medic would shudder and try to ride her face.

She wonders if Lifeline is the type to take what she wants: if she'd pull Bangalore's face in harder against her, if she'd roll her hips and pant encouragement. Or maybe this is the place the medic relinquishes control, and she would just grip the drone for dear life, hips tilting up for the soldier's attentions.

She hopes it's the former. Her gut clenches at the thought of the medic growling with desire and holding Bangalore just where she wants her, fingers tight on the base of her skull.

Bangalore wants Lifeline's thighs shaking, that cocky taunt of a voice pitched to a whine. She wants to make her buck and tremble, to drink from between those thighs until Lifeline is crying and tensing up through her release, until she's dripping to Bangalore's collar, and the soldier will taste the medic on the back of her tongue for days. She wants to pin her with her thighs open against that drone, pull her back in, thrust her tongue in deep and take her over, again and again and again, until she's shaking, grasping at Bangalore's arms and sobbing to be let down.

Bangalore wants her shrieking, startled at her own rapture as the soldier takes everything she was invited to.

_ “Come an' get ya birthday present.” _

A hand waves in her face, fingers snap.

Bangalore jolts out of the daydream, face hot and warmth pulsing between her legs.

"Ya right, soldier?" Lifeline's voice curls with amusement, coy and knowing. A subtle tilt of her head reveals the long, gleaming line of her neck. The syringe twirls light and familiar with confident ease. "Ya gon' look an' closer, ya want my real name."

Swallowing is difficult. The gun graze on her bicep burns beneath its bandage. On her deeper breaths, she can feel the bruise forming in her chest where that syringe plunged in to revive her. She owes this woman her life.

She bristles at Lifeline's slow, growing smile, feeling her face flush with embarrassment. But she won't be outdone by a medic. "What's your real name, then?"

Lifeline smiles, pleased as though her estimation of the soldier has risen the barest notch. She straightens on her perch, legs idly swinging. "Ajay Che, best medic this side the games, and ya future champion."

Bangalore grins despite herself. "You sound pretty sure about that."

"It's rude not to offer ya name in turn."

Oh. She blinks, and just barely stops herself from offering her hand. "Anita Williams," she offers it with a respectful nod instead, hands folding comfortably over the rifle on her chest. "At your service."

"At _ my _ service," Ajay parrots, hushed and teasing, eyes narrowed in delight. "Stay a while, Anita Williams." She nudges a crate closer with one booted toe, smirking when Anita takes her seat before the drone and blinks up at the medic, throat dry at their new height difference. 

Ajay leans down low and close, lanterns glimmering on the exposed skin of her shoulder, warming the lazy curve of her back. Her smile is a secret and a promise.

"An' keep talkin'."


End file.
